Jasmine’s in love with her best friend Innes, but Innes is obsessed with Marilyn Monroe! Innes has even decided to dye her hair platinum blonde so she’ll look more like the object of her affection. When Innes asks Jasmine to do the honours, of course she agrees. She’s tired of playing second fiddle to a movie star, but maybe the intimacy of the act will give her the courage to tell her best friend how she really feels. If this goes badly, Jasmine will lose not only the woman she loves, but her closest friend. But if Innes feels the same way, it could spell Happily Ever After for two best friends.

Marilyn in the Middle is a steamy lesbian romance short from award-winning author Giselle Renarde.

Innes caught me, of course, and said, “She’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” Following my gaze to the huge cluster of Marilyn Monroe prints hanging over her TV, she went on to say, “If you ask me, she’s the most desirable woman there ever was.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I replied, even though I surely could have.

I could have said, “I know one woman who’s ten times more beautiful than Marilyn Monroe.”

Innes would have looked at me funny and hesitated before asking, “Who?”

Then I’d move in so close she would flinch. I’d wrap my arms around her curvy middle and say, “You, Innes. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.”

I would kiss her, then—our first kiss, at long last! Whether she'd kiss me back or pull away I really wasn't sure. That's what had held me back all these years. To me, a kiss was a point of no return. From there, either a relationship began or a friendship ended.

If I were to kiss Innes, everything would change. For better or for worse...

An old embezzlement case
takes on a new twist: murder. When Minx tries to clear her good friend’s name,
she gets burned... literally.

FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS... GET MURDERED

An old embezzling charge
comes back to haunt Minx’s friend, Dallas Porter. Not only that, he’s now the
prime suspect in a murder case. If she doesn’t help him, he could get
convicted. But if she does help him, the murderer just might retaliate. How can
Minx clear her friend... and not get killed?

Homicide Lieutenant Gabe
Harris wants to start the New Year off right. His main resolution is to keep
his new fiancée out of trouble. But trouble zeroes in on Minx, whether she
looks for it or not. Why do murders and Minx seem to go together?

Scene Set-Up:

As Homicide Lieutenant Gabe
Harris prepares for work, he is thankful the New Year is starting off right:
his new love, Minx Tobin, is now his fiancée.

Excerpt:

Gabe rolled out of bed at
ten past ten. He usually didn't sleep so late, but then again, he usually
didn't hit the sheets at five in the morning.

Getting to his bare feet, he
gazed down at the lovely woman in his bed. Minx still slept, now on her right
side, her long hair tossed every which way upon the pillow. With her left hand
nestled near her chin, a diamond shone through her dark brown strands -- the
engagement ring, a promise of a shared future together.

He smiled. Yeah, this was
the way to start a New Year...and every year for the rest of their lives.

But time was wasting. He had
to get started on the day. Unfortunately a new murder had piggybacked onto an
old murder, and if he didn't make progress on both of them, there'd be hell to
pay.

After an invigorating hot
shower, he toweled dry and got dressed. Minx was just beginning to wake up by
the time he stepped out of the master bathroom.

"Mmm," she
murmured sensuously as she stirred under the covers. "Don't you look good
enough to eat."

"As do you." He
finished buttoning up his denim oxford shirt, checked his image in the mirror,
and then combed his damp hair.

She propped herself up,
resting against the headboard. "Something tells me you're all business
this morning. Psychic, aren't I? No time to play, Lieutenant?"

"Morning's almost
gone, sweetheart." He walked over to the king bed and sandwiched her hand
between his. "I've got to go in. Paperwork to fill out."

Paperwork. There was always
paperwork.

"Okay, here's the plan,
Minx. We've got a dinner invite at the Atwells -- one o'clock. So, if you'll
let me out of here without assaulting me..."

As he kissed her fingertips,
he winked. "Then I'll pick you up around twelve thirty. Plenty of time to
make it without being late. Besides, Carlotta would have my head if we
were."

"Sounds like a
plan." Minx batted her lashes at him. "But when can I assault you,
Lieutenant?"

"You are an insatiable
little minx, aren't you, Ms. Tobin?" He leaned over and gave her a quick
kiss, emphasis on the quick. Any longer contact with her lips would cause him
to change his mind. "Let's make a date. What about this evening, after we
get home?"

She stuck her delectable
tongue out at him. "Tease."

"Spoilsport," he
countered, in keeping with their usual banter.

Still smiling, he left the
bedroom. As soon as he got downstairs, he switched gears, his mind now occupied
with his latest murder case.

Lara Wakefield receives
messages from the dead. Her latest “client” is a murdered young girl who wants
to be put to rest. The girl’s killer, however, objects. Can Lara find the
girl’s body without becoming the next victim?

Money
Or Love?

Private investigator Stuart
Manning wants nothing to do with supernatural phenomena. A retainer of $50,000
overcomes his reluctance. Lara’s innate ability, integrity, and beauty cause
him to have second thoughts about psychics, while deadly occurrences cause him
to believe the little girl’s murderer is still hanging around. How can Stuart
protect Lara when the killer is always one step ahead?

Scene Set-Up:

Laura Wakefield awakens in
a strange hotel room with a strange man in bed with her and a wedding ring on
her finger. She struggles to regain her memory.

Excerpt:

Lara groaned. It was
official; this was the worst headache she’d ever suffered because of her gift.
In all the years she’d served as messenger girl to the dead, she never, ever
felt as totally wiped as she did this very minute.

Exhaling her frustration, she lay limply on what she
assumed was a bed. She didn’t even have energy to open her eyes, plus her
memory had holes large enough to walk through. Where was this bed located?
Where was she? Why did her head feel two sizes too large?

Flitting images teased her. She saw herself in a
mirror; a drugged out zombie peered back at her. She recalled taking a moon
walk to a truck. The taste of a sandwich laced with spicy mustard stung her
mouth. More walking, and more eating but where to and what kind of food eluded
her. The cold chill of floor tile had iced her bare feet, and she felt the pull
of a shirt over her head with some trouble sticking her arms through the large
armholes.

A masculine fragrance drifted over to her, too. The
rugged face of the man she’d met yesterday--was it just yesterday?--popped into
her mind. In all these memories, Stuart Manning had helped her. She heard his
deep voice. He’d told her that she wanted to accompany him.

Why couldn’t she remember?

Lara lifted her bent arms up then out, brushing the
back of her left hand against her forehead. The hard surface of a ring hit her
left temple.

Whoa. Her eyelids flew open and in the dark, she
stared at her ring finger. A slim gold band encircled it--a band signifying
marriage.

She immediately sat up. There was no way she could
forget getting married. No way at all. She glanced to her right and her stomach
dropped. On the pillow next to her was Stuart Manning’s head, then came his
neck, his broad shoulders, and part of his well-defined chest, generously
delineated with hair. The bed sheets hid whether he was completely naked.

“Omigosh!” She stuffed her fist into her mouth. That
he still slept was a blessing. That she so wantonly slept next to him was a
catastrophe.

But was it so wanton if they were married?

This can't be. This just can't be! Not wanting to wake him, Lara slipped from the bed.
As she'd remembered, she wore an oversized tee shirt--his, most likely. When
she patted herself down, she cringed. She had nothing on underneath.

Oh, God. How could this get any worse?

Her imagination supplied several answers. Well,
you could’ve gotten pregnant, could’ve contracted a social disease, he could be
a mass murderer--

Stop it!
Useless conjecture didn't help this situation. She had to pull herself together
and try to remember. Thankfully, her head wasn't quite so fuzzy as before so
she took stock of her surroundings as best as she could in the dark. One bed,
two night tables, dresser, table and chairs equaled standard hotel/motel room
fare.

She cautiously made her way to the window and peeked
out from behind the heavy drapes. Early morning’s murky haze bathed a crowded
row of vehicles parked near the building. A partial view of a neon sign near
the road proclaimed “Bismarck” and “No Vacancy.”

Dropping the drapery, she leaned against the wall.
Her legs didn’t want to support her anymore. North Dakota? How could she
suddenly wake up in North Dakota?

Or, the more important question, how could she
suddenly wake up married?

Cassie Edwards, a former foster child, purchases an 1870s
Victorian mansion, the one home from her childhood where she felt like part of
a family. She’s spending her summer lovingly restoring it, with dreams of one
day raising a family of her own here. Rayne Tucket, a photojournalist, is
haunted by the death of his best friend in Afghanistan, a death he thinks is
his fault. He survives day to day. Forever is not in his vocabulary. Swearing
off photography, he answers an ad for a handyman—mindless, no emotion involved.
As the two of them renovate her house, can Cassie show Rayne that love is
strong enough to heal all wounds?

Excerpt:

The intimate closenessmade her stomach flutter. The
proximity of their bodies, the rush of the water, and his feathering touch on
her lips made her dizzy. She gripped his arms for support. He grasped her
waist, staring deep in her eyes.

He was going to kiss her. She
knew it. His pupils dilated. Time slowed. The rushing water pounded around her.
She opened her mouth, as much to drink in air as to get ready to kiss him back.
His eyes narrowed, focused on her lips. She leaned toward him. Their wet bodies
pressed against each other. Her breasts tingled, and her stomach heated at the
contact. She wanted this to go on forever, but at the same time, she wanted him
to hurry up and kiss her so their lips could finally meet. At the last possible
second, he pushed away.

She stood there, confused and
aching.

“I’m not the staying kind,
Cassie.”

She frowned. “What do you
mean?”

“A woman like you needs a man
who’ll stay forever. My time here has an expiration date.”

She ducked under the water.
When she came up, she pushed her hair out of her face. “I know you’re leaving.
You don’t have to, though.”